


Fetching Alex

by fhsa_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Domestic Discipline, Drabble, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-03
Updated: 2004-09-03
Packaged: 2019-02-05 18:39:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12800019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhsa_archivist/pseuds/fhsa_archivist
Summary: very, very short. ~540 words. Otherwise, just what the title says.





	Fetching Alex

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

I could hear his screams as soon as I entered the mansion. Walking quickly to the basement, I opened the door to the room where they were torturing Alex Krycek.

 

I froze my expression into something hard before any emotion could show through. I had to distance myself from the shrieks he emitted, as if the sounds were a recording, not related to any real distress.

 

Two thugs held his body down while a third knelt on his left wrist. That shoulder was already visibly dislocated and a fourth man was working on the other. Every motion of the men jerked on the injured shoulder, as did every flailing kick and attempt to get free. When they saw me, the men stopped, interrupted. Alex kept struggling, eyes meeting mine in panic and pleading. The smoking man entered behind me, cigarette in hand.

 

"Alex, be still," I ordered. He froze immediately, still as a statue except for the shallow panting. The many, many nights of practice in this role showed.

 

"Mr. Skinner, I had no idea you would be interested in this," Spender said with dry sarcasm. "I find it distasteful, myself. If I'd known, I would have sent you an invitation."

 

I mastered the rage before it filtered onto my features, twisting into the cold anger that I could control. Then, I ignored him.

 

"Release him," I said to the men holding Krycek down. Slowly, seeing no disagreement from the smoking man, they rose and stepped away. The one holding the wrist kicked the dislocated shoulder as he walked around Alex's head. Alex's reaction to the pain showed only in his eyes and breath that hitched with a tiny whimper. He didn't move at all as he was released. His eyes were still wide and terrified like an injured animal, but he remained obedient to my command, eyes locked on my face.

 

"To me," I said. Alex rose quickly in spite of the obvious pain of his injured arm and moved to kneel at my feet, eyes downcast and injured arm held protectively by the whole one. I touched his head and looked at Spender. "This is your only warning. Krycek is under my protection just as Mulder and Scully are. Leave him alone."

 

Spender blanched. He obviously hadn't realized. I nodded coolly before touching Alex's jaw, signaling him to rise and follow me from the house.

 

Alex was audibly breathing from deep in his chest, something he'd learned from Scully's Lamaze class. I settled him into the passenger seat before asking, "Alex, where's your jacket?"

 

He looked at me stupidly. I repeated his name until something resembling intelligence showed in his eyes.

 

"Where's your coat?" I asked again.

 

"Destroyed," he whispered, resuming his measured breathing.

 

I closed the door and called Fox.

 

"Mulder," he greeted.

 

"I found Alex," I said.

 

"Thank God."

 

"Call Scully. His arm is dislocated and he'll need some good painkillers - they were about to do the other one when I got here. I'll be home in about thirty minutes."

 

"Gotcha." The quiet after the single word was filled with question.

 

"He's going to be fine, Fox." I answered the unvoiced concern. He paused before replying.

 

"Just make sure you get our lover home safe."

 

 

The End


End file.
